


Men Are Brave

by RussianWitch



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masochism, Mind Games, Needles, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: Superman has never felt pain, not really, not until Batman's kryptonite spear.The sensation stays with him.The Bat can be indulgent when he feels like it.





	Men Are Brave

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [DCEU Kink Meme Needle Play fill](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/455825) by Anonymous. 



> Now beta'd by Andi4  
> Many, many thanks :)

"More?" The Bat rasps against his abdomen, it's certainly not Bruce speaking for all that they are the same man, possibly something in between the two, a cruel, merciless creature—who Clark cannot bring himself to resist.

His eyes wet with unshed tears, he considers the question.

His body hurts; a dull throbbing kind of pain, one he's grown familiar with by now, even if it always comes as a shock.

Clark never knew when he’d be able to enjoy another one of these sessions.  He could probably ask, but that would spoil part of the fun. Possibly, he's thought more than once, the Bat waits until the memory of pain has faded again until Clark has forgotten that before the sweet, dull burn of it, there are the sharp flares and tears.

"Yes," he agrees wetly, not quite sobbing, but having given up on composure, "please!" Tugging restlessly the rope loosely around his wrists, mostly to keep them out of the way.  

The needle glows, all of them do, emerald green in the half-dark of the cave.

They never do this in Bruce's bed, never in daylight, always hidden away in the cave, in the shadows where only the bats can hear Clark scream and sob for more.

The Bat presses the needle to Clark's lips, and it doesn't burn, but Clark imagines it does, imagines that it leaves a mark for all to see and comment on. The sharp tip is dragged over Clark's chin, along his throat, it catches on his chest hair and the treasure trail down his abdomen all the way down to the base of his dick.

"Yes!" He groans as the point of the needle trails up his dick tracing the slit at the tip with horrifying, dizzying potential before descending down the other side where its twins have already speared Clark's flesh. The needle point twists away, the Bat's knuckle pressing on the skin raised by the needles passing underneath, sending a cascade of sensation along Clark's nerves, sharp and bright again.

"Deep breath now," Bruce warns.

Clark feels every millimeter of the needle splitting his skin, pushing through flesh and coming out the other side.

Bruce makes sure to take his time with it, barely refraining from twisting the poisonous metal to give Clark a more interesting sensation.  

He sobs in pain, or possibly gratitude, hiding his face against Bruce's shoulder.

"More?" Bruce whispers in Clark's ear, his lips curling into a vicious smile against Clark's neck, his fingers tangling in Clark's hair, combing it out of his face when he looks up again.

"More?" He parrots looking at the tray set on the bedside table where four more needles are neatly laid out all in a row.

Bruce kisses him, teases his mouth instead of answering. His fingers on the head of Clark's dick are a tease and torment all at once, too rough on engorged flesh, pinching and rubbing until Clark has almost forgotten his question.

"Bruce!" He cries when Bruce is forced to release his mouth to catch a breath, "wha..."  

Instead of kissing Clark again, Bruce licks his way down to Clark's chest, bites, and tugs at the dense mat of hair that covers it until he finds a nipple by feel. His lips close around it, his tongue laves the pebbled flesh until Clark relaxes into the touch before the Bat bites down making Clark scream and claw at the bed ripping the sheets in shock.

"More?" The Bat demands, and Clark wants to say 'no', wants to yell that it will be too much—

"Yes!" He pants instead, arching his back, offering himself for further torment, terrified it will hurt more—or that it will hurt less.

The first fat nub is pinched between the Bat's fingers, pulled away from Clark's chest, stretched taunt before the needle bites into the flesh.  

Tears spring from his eyes, his breath stalls in his tortured chest—

"One more," the Bat warns, and a second needle pierces the nipple from the other side.

Something wet flicks across the tip of the tortured nub, the tip of the Bat's tongue flicks across the tip of the nipple, again and again, making the needles shift and pull until Clark is sobbing, and trying to twist away.

"More?" The Bat demands, relentlessly, leaving Clark's chest alone to turn his attention to Clark's dick instead.

He's leaking, Clark thinks muzzily, the head of his dick glistening with pre-come that Bruce lovingly rubs into Clark's overheated skin, polishing the head of Clark's dick until it shines, and Clark is crying and leaving deep tissue bruises on Bruce's shoulders as he endures.

"You look so—human like this," the Bat whispers, cruel praise falling from him.

"Please—," Clark begs or imagined himself begging, his tongue stumbling around the world, a random assembly of sounds leaving his mouth.

"I could keep you like this," the Bat continues, "gift you with a piercing here—," the nail of his thumb digs into Clark's flesh just under the head of his dick, "or here—," pushing Clark's balls aside, rubbing at the perineum, "a pretty little ring, always there, hurting, keeping you honest..." The Bat runs his fingers along the butts of the needles in Clark's dick sending fresh waves of agony rushing through his body, "but hiding what you need wouldn't be very honest, would it?" He nips bruises on Clark's throat jolting the needles again and again, "maybe a cage around your dick, one you'll have trouble hiding even dressed—I wonder what you'd enjoy more? The burn of the kryptonite? Or of humiliation, of knowing that everyone will notice and wonder?"  

Fresh tears spring from Clark's eyes, imagining himself sitting in the bullpen, squirming, the cock cage bulging his pants at the crotch, his dick half-hard, soaking his underwear with pre-come because the kryptonite tainted metal feels like the Bat's hand around him, every minute of the day.

"Bruuuuuuc..." the name turns into a sob as another needle is pushed into his flesh, followed by another, his nipples now matching in decoration.

"You're beautiful!" Bruce husks, manhandling Clark half onto his side. His hands are gentle on Clark's ass, wet with slick as they push into him, opening him up for Bruce's dick.

Bruce's dick is not a reward, getting fucked is not the end goal of the exercise. If Bruce wanted, he could leave Clark to wait, cuff his hands to the bed and leave him to stew in pain and arousal. Clark will thank him, if Bruce ever does, if the Bat ever does, he will cherish the memory—if the exercise doesn't kill him.

"So greedy for me," Bruce kisses Clark's temple and along his jaw as he fucks his way in, filling Clark up, curling around him like a lover, "so tight!" He hisses, shifting and adjusting his pace until Clark is crying out every time he's filled, Bruce's dick hitting that one spot Kryptonians have in common with Earthlings, pleasure, and pain clashing and mingling in Clark's body until he feels like he's about to burst.

Clark feels like he'd float away if Bruce wasn't clutching him tightly like he's about turn into light, no longer human, no longer alien simply a body full of sensation.

"Good man," Bruce grunts, and Clark comes with a howl, the world falling away in a dizzying kaleidoscope of sensation that breaks his body into atoms and stitches it back together.

When Clark can process properly again he's been rolled onto his stomach and Bruce is on top of him, riding his ass without mercy, his every thrust rocking Clark's body, making the needles in his flesh catch on the soggy sheets, fanning the pain into a wildfire of agony.  

Raising his ass to give Bruce a better angle, Clark sobs his gratitude into the pillow.


End file.
